


Nor Arguments Bend It

by Kita_the_Spaz



Series: Sockathan Week [4]
Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kita_the_Spaz/pseuds/Kita_the_Spaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Come to think of it, it was really odd that both his personal demon and his shirt had vanished at around the same time. Jonathan didn’t really believe it was coincidence.</p>
<p>Written for Sockathan Week day four (clothes Swap)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nor Arguments Bend It

Jonathan dug through the pile of clean laundry on his bed, growing ever more frustrated, as the object of his search eluded his efforts. “Mom, have you seen my hoodie?” He shouted down the hall.

“No.” His mother’s voice, slightly irritated, echoed back. “I told you to put it in the wash.”

Jonathan went through the pile again. “I did!”

“No you didn’t,” She replied. “It wasn’t in either of the loads I did.”

“I know I did! I threw it on top of the bathroom hamper before I took my shower last night.” Jonathan scowled, tossing clean clothes left and right in his search for his favorite hoodie.

“It would have been in the wash if it was.” His mother retorted, that hint of irritation growing. “The wash that you _are_ folding when you get home from school!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonathan muttered sourly. Dammit, he was gonna miss his bus if he didn't hurry and find the freaking hoodie. After fruitlessly searching for another minute, Jonathan resigned himself to wearing a baggy sweatshirt instead of his hoodie. But he was going to tear the damned house apart when he got home to find his favorite article of clothing.

Surprisingly, Sock wasn’t waiting for him at the bus stop. His personal pain-in-the-posterior was usually there before he was, waiting to begin his day of annoying Jonathan into suicide... or maybe just insanity. Jonathan wasn’t willing to bet either way.

Sock still hadn’t showed up by the time the bus pulled up, lights blinding Jonathan momentarily after the dull monotony of the overcast skies. Jonathan climbed aboard, promptly putting his headphones on. He could normally tune out the noise aboard the bus with Sock’s incessant chatter, but today he’d have to go back to the measures he’d used before Sock came into his life.

Sock didn’t show up at all that day, leaving Jonathan to wonder what had happened. He hated to admit it but he’d gotten used to having Sock around, making pithy comments on everything from the biology teacher’s terrible toupee to the inadvisability of eating cafeteria fare. It seemed entirely too quiet without him snarking when he wasn’t trying to drive Jonathan bonkers.

Jonathan headed home after school, turning his music up to drown out the too-loud silence at his side. The driveway was empty and the door locked, so chances were he was on his own until dinner. He let himself in and locked the door behind him, dumping his bag in the entrance hall. After a quick sandwich, he slouched into his room to sort and fold the pile of laundry his mother had dumped on his bed that morning.

His hoodie had not magically reappeared in the folded laundry, and Jonathan was determined to find the stupid thing. He searched the bathroom and laundry room first, growing more frustrated when they yielded no results. He retraced his steps from the night before, though he distinctly remember tossing the gray fabric on top of the hamper.

Despite the noise he’d made searching, the house seemed too quiet without Sock chattering away in the background. Come to think of it, it was really odd that both his personal demon and his shirt had vanished at around the same time. He didn’t really believe it was coincidence.

Closing his eyes and sighing through his nose, Jonathan tried to think of what Sock could want with his favorite shirt. A sound in the too-loud silence startled him and he looked up. Directly at the hatch to the attic. It couldn’t be...

Jonathan caught the pull cord, tugging the folding steps down. His climbed up, peering around as soon as his head had cleared the floor. There was dim, gray light coming from the two dormer windows at either end of the long, narrow space, lighting the shapes of stacked boxes and various pieces of junk collected over the years.

He could see movement at the far end, behind a bulwark of old boxes of Christmas decorations and under the narrow window that looked out onto the stunted trees in the backyard. As silently as he could, Jonathan climbed the rest of the way into the attic, ghosting toward the slight hint of movement, and avoiding obstacles with absent-minded ease. He paused, peering around the last blockade of boxes.

The tiny space bore some resemblance to a nest, carpeted with threadbare blankets and cushions pulled from the worn love-seat shoved against the wall. A few old pillows were heaped up under the window, and it was there that Sock sat, arms folded on the low sill and chin resting on his crossed wrists, quietly watching a few drab brown sparrows and rust colored squirrels go on with their lives in one of the trees outside. He wore Jonathan’s hoodie, the soft fabric even baggier on his frame than it was on Jonathan’s, bunched loosely around his shoulders, and draping down over his skinny wrists. He shifted a bit and buried his nose in the folds of cloth around his shoulders, inhaling and letting the air out in a long sigh.

Jonathan knew Sock only breathed out of habit, having seen firsthand the hole that had ended his life, but the absent-minded action spoke of something different.

Stepping around the boxes and folding his arms, Jonathan glared down at the demon. “Please tell me there’s a reason you stole my favorite hoodie?”

Sock yelped, tumbling off his stack of pillows and landing in a graceless sprawl. He blinked wide green eyes up at Jonathan, red climbing his round cheeks. “Um... Jonathan?”

“Who else would it be?” Jonathan retorted. “It is my house.”

Sock pulled himself up into the air, floating in an almost fetal ball, knees tucked up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. “Yeah...” His voice trailed off and he looked very much like he was debating bolting.

Jonathan tapped a foot. “So again, why did you steal my shirt? And while we’re at it, what’s with this?” Jonathan described a circle in the air with his index finger, indicating the ‘nest’ Sock currently floated above.

Sock blinked, his look almost sullen. “I don’t always want to go back to hell. It’s loud and annoying and some of the other demons are... well, they’re demons, so nice isn’t in their job descriptions. When I need some quiet I— I kinda hide out up here. I used to watch the animals that lived in the tree outside my bedroom window, just watch them and not think about anything for a while, so... yeah.” Sock gestured at the window. “I just like the quiet occasionally.”

Sock smiled brightly at Jonathan, green eyes almost squinching shut from the force of it. “And when I’m being quiet, I’m not bugging you, right?”

Jonathan wasn’t letting it go, though. “And the fact that you’re wearing my hoodie?”

“I get cold sometimes—?” The questioning lilt was unmistakable.

“You float around in a skirt and ripped jeans in the middle of December. I know you don’t feel the cold.” Jonathan scowled. “Try again.”

Sock flushed. “What does it matter? I was going to give it back!”

“When? After I got pissed trying to find it for a week or two?” Jonathan frowned. He’d had it with Sock’s crap.

Sock actually flinched, ducking his head into his hunched shoulders. “No...” His voice was small, defensive. “When— when it didn’t smell like you anymore...”

Jonathan was completely floored. His mouth hung open, the angry words frozen in his throat. “W-what?”

His startled question seemed to give Sock some confidence. “I-I took it out of the laundry before your mom could wash it. It smells like you. I—” He ducked his head again. “I like the way you smell.”

Jonathan found his mouth working without making a sound, and closed it with a snap. He honestly had no idea what to think, much less say. _The way he smelled—?_

His silence seemed to take back what little confidence Sock had gained. Sock drifted lower, hanging at knee-height, his head turtled in the rucked up fabric around his hunched shoulders. Very slowly and quite reluctantly, he began to slide the zipper down.

“Uh... keep it.” The words were out before Jonathan even realized what he’d said and he hastily qualified them with, “At least for now.”

The change in Sock was instantaneous. The demon sprang up with a happy noise, his grin taking up his whole face. He floated up and wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s shoulders in a hug, bouncing slightly in the air like an over-excited toddler.

Jonathan tried to back away, but tripped over one of the moth-eaten blankets. He landed on his ass with a thump, ending up with a lapful of squirmy, excited Sock.

Sock grinned widely, grabbing the ear-flaps of his ridiculous hat. He tugged it off with a flourish and jammed it down on Jonathan’s head. “There. Now we match!”

“Match?” Sputtering, Jonathan tried to tug the hat off, but Sock wouldn’t let him, laughing and shoving his hands away. “How do— _Stop that!_ — you figure that!? Your dumb— _Knock it off!_ — hat doesn’t match anything!”

Sock laughed gleefully. “I’m wearing your hoodie and you’re wearing my hat, that’s how! We’re sharing clothes!” He dropped a quick, surprising kiss on the tip of Jonathan’s nose. “The only way it could be better was if I was wearing your pants! ‘Course, I’d have to get you out of them first!”

_“Sock!”_

**Author's Note:**

> must sleep no--ZZzzzzzzz


End file.
